Scars That Remain
by LynxMalfoy
Summary: What happens to Beallatrix while she is locked up in Azkaban? What haunts her everytime she closes her eyes. This is why Bellatrix lestrange is insane. BellatrixXDementor, M for torture, language and themes. I hope you enjoy! Written for the "Out of your Comfort Zone Challenge " on HPFC.


**Hi everyone, I was tasked with writing a fic that met the following specifications by the "Out of Your Comfort Zone Challenge". Here's what I cam up with. Enjoy!**

**Pairing: Bellatrix/Dementor**

**Prompts: Beauty, shell, Too Beautiful by He is We, glee and challenge**

**Genres: Tragedy and Horror**

**Length: 1000**

**Rating: T-M**

**Scars That Remain**

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_She cowers against the chaise, blood flowing down her face from the open cut on her brow. Her body was littered with bruises and her eyes where an empty shell of what she used to be. _

_She used to be beautiful, with long raven hair and dark eyes that engulfed even the blackest of hearts. But now, here she was, forced to the ground and made to wait while her maniacal husband smiled with glee above her, his hands dripping with her blood._

_"Crucio!" He yelled savagely, his face twisted into an evil little smirk, glad at finally taking Bellatrix Lestrange down another notch._

_"You think you're better than the rest of us, because the Dark Lord favours you?" He murmured, running the tip of his wand down her face and wordlessly casting a cutting curse. A long thin line appeared down her face, from the corner of her eye to her chin, further marring what used to be a beautiful visage._

_"Well you're not." He continued, kicking her in the stomach as she tried shakily to get to her feet. "You're nothing but a stupid wretch who is no better than a mudblood slut." _

_He grabbed her chin roughly, staring into the dark eyes that once held defiance but were now filled with emptiness. He spit in her face, before rubbing in the drying blood-_

She gasped, sitting up suddenly in the cold air. Her breath came in quick, ragged strokes and her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She stood quickly and paced around her 8 by 10 cell. She felt the air in her cell get suddenly colder, and she turned to see the dementor that always guarded her cell at the door.

"Why?" She screamed at the dementor, breaking the stifling silent bubble within her cell. Her blood was rushing in her ears and she stormed to the cell door, shaking the bars and screaming incoherently at the dementor.

She feels a presence in her mind, a pushing force that overwhelms her, forcing her to the ground.

_Because I feed off your fear and pain. _The voice is cold and slimy, like a drop of poison down the back of your neck, gently caressing the skin yet making you shiver in disgust. She backs away from the dementor, who follows her into the middle of the cell.

Pain bursts all over he body, a distant memory of the crutiatus and she once again feels as if she is being beaten all over again, though she knows Rodolphus is nowhere near her. A tear slips from the corner of her eye but she angrily brushes it away before standing up. She cannot let a mere dementor see her cry.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She says her voice hysterical.

The presence is back in her mind and the voice is back, slimier than ever. She never knew that dementor's could actually speak.

_Because, Bellatrix Lestrange, I enjoy breaking you. You are a challenge for me to overcome, just one more person for me to break._

Even as she is listening to the dementor's voice, it morphs into his. Into Rodolphus'. The room around her changes from the dank, dreary cell into a lush sitting room with dark grey sofa's and chaises and opulent mirrors lining the walls, reflecting the scene millions of time. In the mirror she see's herself and Rodolphus, standing in the sitting room of Lestrange manor, in her favourite sitting room.

"Please…" She whispers. "Stop, please." He just laughs a deep sound that fills her with dread. It may not be Rodolphus himself, but the dementor was enough to cause terror to run through her. She backs away, towards the large doors on the opposite side of the room.

He raises his hand and smacks her hard across the face, a ring on his finger cutting deeply into her skin. She falls to the ground, landing sprawled against a dark grey chaise.

_She cowers against the chaise, blood flowing down her face from the open cut on her brow. Her body was littered with bruises and her eyes where an empty shell of what she used to be. _

_She used to be beautiful, with long raven hair and dark eyes that engulfed even the blackest of hearts. But now, here she was, forced to the ground and made to wait for death while her maniacal husband smiled with glee above her, his hands dripping with her blood._

_"Crucio!" He yells savagely, his face twisted into an evil little smirk, glad at finally taking Bellatrix Lestrange down another notch, breaking her just that little bit more._

_"You think you're better than the rest of us, because the Dark Lord favours you?" He murmurs, running the tip of his wand down her face and wordlessly casting a cutting curse, a favourite of his. A long thin line appears down her face, from the corner of her eye to her chin, further marring what used to be a beautiful visage and spilling yet more blood onto her pale skin._

_"Well you're not." He continues, kicking her in the stomach and cursing her every now and again as she tries to shakily get to her feet. "You're nothing but a stupid wretch who is no better than a mudblood slut. Good for nothing other than a lousy shag" _

_He grabs her chin roughly, staring into the dark eyes that once held defiance but were now filled with emptiness and nothing. He spit in her face, before rubbing in the drying blood that covers her face like a blanket-_

She gasped, sitting up suddenly in the cold air. Her breath came in quick, ragged strokes and her heart beat rapidly in her chest. A dark voice whispers to her in her head, sending shivers down her spine. She knows it's his, the dementor's, but she can't see him yet. With dawning horror, she realizes what is happening. What will continue to happen for the rest of her life.

The dementor enters her cell and again, begins to morph into Rodolphus, the room morphing as well into the familiar sitting room, her favourite one that was now forever engrained into her memory and nightmares. She backs away from him, towards the doors on the other side of the room, as he raises his hand to slap her. She screams in horror.

_Welcome to your future, Bellatrix Lestrange._

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**What do you think? It might seem a little round about, but I think it captures what I'm trying to say. I wrote this in about an hour, so please excuse any spelling/grammatical errors.**

**If you likey, please let me know. Review make me happy!**


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